An Unchained Melody
by Eb0nyBlack
Summary: Darren is about to meet his idol, his hero, his teenage crush. He doesn't, however, expect the President of the United States to be so, let's say, friendly? Obarren is on people!
1. Chapter 1

Darren had been dreaming of this moment his entire life. It was going to be, without a doubt, the best weekend of his life.

Sure he'd always remember the day he was cast for Glee's Blaine Devon Anderson, the day he first laid eyes on the beautiful Chris Colfer, even the day that Klaine shared their first kiss. He'd especially remember Chris though, the super sweet and super sexy young man who played Kurt on Glee. Darren had had a crush on him since day one, who can blame him though? He couldn't quite pinpoint what it was that made him so infatuated with Chris, maybe it was his perfectly pruned hair? Or his beaming blue eyes? Or his flawless, ghostly white skin that glowed brighter than Edward Cullen's in sunlight. He just couldn't place it, Chris was just.. he was just perfect, let's not beat around the bush. Nothing could compare in Darren's hazel eyes, he was the best of the best.

None of that mattered right now though, this was it, Darren's big day. Not only was he about to meet and perform for the President of the United States but also, and most importantly, his childhood hero.

Ever since Darren could remember he'd been in love. In love with one Barack Obama. Even before his presidential election in 2009. He was the Brad Pitt of the political world and boy did he work it. Darren had always had a soft spot for politics, it was his guilty pleasure and Barack Obama always managed to capture him, fascinate him with his every word and his every action. He could do no wrong in Darren's young eyes.

Darren had almost forgotten about his lust for Barack when he first met Chris, he'd been too consumed by an unexpected love for his openly gay co star. Chris didn't love him back though. He couldn't. No one even knew he was gay. Or at least it was never confirmed. Not even his closest friends knew. He'd come so close to telling them well into season three of Glee but backed out, he was too scared. He couldn't bare the thought of losing them as his friends. Sure none of them were homophobic but that doesn't mean they won't abandon him for lying to them. No, he had to keep it a secret, just for a little while longer. He had it all planned out in his head, he'd tell his mother first and then the rest of his family. Soon after he'd tell Chris because, well just because it's Chris, the love of his life. He needed to know the truth and not just read it in the newspapers and magazines, he needed to hear the words from Darren's luscious lips. Then he'd be able to tell all of his friends and eventually the media. He'd be out and proud, just like Chris. And then maybe, just maybe Chris will realise that Darren has been there all along.

As much as he tried to deny it all of his life, Darren was and always will be gay. He liked boys. Boys. Boys. Boys. That was all he could think about, Chris, Barack, Enrique, even Chord during his topless scenes. I mean, who wouldn't be attracted to a shirtless Chord, have you seen those abs? One word: gorgeous.

It was all too overwhelming, he was pretty much a regular guy who turned into a world wide sensation. A celebrity over night. A role model to millions. It was crazy. And now, to top it off he was about to meet his hero. Words couldn't describe how he felt. It was a combination of pride and disbelief. Things like this just did not happen to bushy haired boys from San Francisco.


	2. Chapter 2

Throughout his 5 hour plane journey all he could think about was what to say. Something along the lines of 'i am your biggest fan, i love you so much, please don't ever stop being so damn perfect' without sounding like a deranged fanboy. But he was. Darren couldn't deny his inner fanboy. It'd be like denying his multitude of curls the freedom they so deserve. He was a fanboy. No matter how much Chris teased him about it whenever they watched Disney movies together, he just couldn't stop. It was second nature to him. He was a fanboy before Glee and he will be a fanboy long after it.

After disembarking the plane he pulled his grey beanie over his untamed curls and headed for the exit, being sure to avoid the flocks of fangirls scattered across the floor, lying in wait. There were just too many, he'd be there for days signing things and dishing out special Darren hugs. As much as he loved his fans he decided to give this a miss, he did a President to serenade later today of course.

It was pretty ironic how many girls fancied him considering he was gay. Maybe girls really are attractive to men they can't have? He made a mental note to ask Chris later, he knew all of this you see. Unlike Darren, a novice in the art of seduction and love. He'd never really had a reciprocal relationship. Sure he'd been in love but they never felt the same. He'd even had a girlfriend before, Mia, but she never really appreciated him. She mainly just used him for his fame. There was also the issue of him being gay. As much as he tried, he just couldn't love Mia, he wasn't attracted to her. She wasn't necessarily ugly, she just didn't have the right genitalia.

When he arrived at the hotel he was greeted by a sea of paparazzi and screaming fans. He was used to this by now, all the attention and publicity. He didn't really consider himself a 'star' or anything like that, he was just Darren. He wasn't some deity who saw themselves as better than everyone else, who was too good to interact with the general public. With that in mind he smiled a whole heartedly goofy smile and took his time signing autographs on various pictures and body parts, taking pictures with his fans and occasionally spurting out nuggets of wisdom such as 'there's nothing more badass than being yourself'. He even overheard one girl mutter something about never washing herself every again after forcing Darren to sign her left boob - _cheeky_ - and wrapping him up in her arms with a vice tight hug.

Inside, the hotel was quiet considering it was the President's Inauguration tomorrow. You'd think there be reems of people, lined up around the street, just to get into the lobby. Obviously not. Not everyone was as big of a political geek as Darren.

The man at the front desk was nice enough and directed Darren to the elevators around the corner so that he could find his room, _1073_.

His room was, well.. it wasn't a room, it was a mansion. A freaking palace. It was massive. You could fit an entire village in the bathroom alone. This was far too nice for him, he thought as he investigated the 'room' in it's entirety. It had a living room and it's own kitchen. Who was he, the Presdient of the United States or something?

When he finally found the master bedroom his eyes lept out of his skull at the bed. A Queen sized bed sat in the middle of the floor, disguised in rose petals and animal shaped towels. This really was too much. His eager eyes scanned the rest of the room, taking in his surroundings only for him to find a bottle of Perrier-Jouet Champagne sitting at the foot of the bed, ice bucket and all, with an envelope attached to it. _How fancy._

Moving towards the bed, the young man removed the envelope from it's place at the edge of the bed and analsyed it with curiosity. There was no writing on it, not even a little 'Darren' scribbled on the front, it was left blank. He turned it over and gasped a little. the envelope came complete with a red wax seal on the back. _Holy shit, this is it. Finally, my letter of acceptance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

He opened the envelope with shaky hands to reveal a beautiful scripture wirtten in calligraphy, reading 'Dear Mr Criss, we are delighted that you could perform at President Obama's Inauguration concert. The President would like to formally invite you for dinner at the White House after your performance. Sincerley, the Office.'

_Holy crap you freaking what Barack Obama wants to have dinner with me no, this is not happening. _And so the fanboying commenced.

Naturally, he began by opening up the very expensive bottle of champagne infront of him, it'd be rude to just let it sit there and go to waste. He poured himself a glass and perched himself on the edge of the massive bed, staring at the piece of paper in his hands. This was more than a piece of paper though. It was a doorway into a new world. A world in which Darren Everette Criss was going to meet and have dinner with the President. His idol. This was big. _Oh god, what am i going to wear, i need Chris. He always knows how to 'dress to impress' as they say._

It was any excuse to call Chris. Even when he knew Chris wouldn't be able to help, he just couldn't resist his urge. He just needed to hear his voice, hear him laugh at his stupid jokes, hear his smile evident in his voice. And he did just that. He rang Chris on his mobile, champagne in his other hand and waited patiently for his best friend to answer.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

'Hello?'


	3. Chapter 3

'You'll never guess what?' Darren practically screamed down the phone at an unsuspecting Chris.

'Go on then, suprise me' Chris entertained him.

'Barack Obama, the President of the United freaking States of America asked me to dinner!' he probably could have phrased that better, but he really couldn't care less right now, but he really couldn't care less right now because he had a date. _Its not a date darren, calm down. You're just having dinner with the President, it's just a typical friday night. Stop reading into things, you do this too much and then you get hurt. Do you not remember the time Chris asked you to kiss him and you got all excited and then it turns out you were rehearsing for the now cut episode of Glee? Yeah. Besides Barack is married, you of all people should know this, you saw them on the Ellen Degeneres show dancing._

His babbling mind was shortly interupting by Chris' sweet sounding falsetto. 'Ooo Darren and Barack sitting in a tre G' sarcasm sewn into his words. Of course he picked up on Darren's poor choice of phrasing and decided to mock him, what else are best friends for?

'Hahaha' Darren faked a laugh, the impact of which dramatically decreased due to the high pitched nature of it. Cats somewhere in space could hear it, he was pretty sure. 'I'm being serious' he finished.

'So am i, you better dress up! He's not going to show you his Chambers of Commerce if you turn out in jeans and that beanie you're obsessed with' the younger man snapped, sarcasm laced in his squeaky voice.

'Hey, i'll have you know the ladies love my beanie' the elder retorted with a smile stretched across his sun kissed skin exposing his pearlescent teeth.

'That's no excuse for it to be glued to your bushy head!'

Darren simply glared at the air, forgetting that Chris couldn't see him. He had a 'haha you're so funny lol jk' look plastered across his face, one which he has mastered over the many years of the two boy's friendship. Chris was always coming out with little comments mocking him on anything from his obssession with Disney to his love for apple juice to his hiatus beard (the one on his face, calm down).

'..Anyway, was that all you wanted, to gloat about your big date mr lover boy?' Chris fake gasped as if he was hurt by the idea of Darren flaunting his 'new man' in his face but Darren knew better. He knew Chris didn't see him like that, he'd never experience that jealous side of Chris which he so longed to see. The mere idea of Chris being so deeply in love with him that he would turn green with envy at the thought of another man wanting Darren was too much. He had to change the topic or he was going to cry, he could already feel that all too familiar lump in his throat and tears threatening his eyes.

'No, actually..' he spoke with a quiet, shy tone that had been absent in their previous encounter 'i wanted to ask your advice, on what i should wear.. You know, because he is the President after all.' Darren trailed off hoping Chris would chime in any time soon and not dwell on this whole Obama thing for too long.

None of his friends, especially Chris, knew about his crush on Barack - let alone his political obsession. It was't something he wanted out there, what if Chris found out and mocked him? What if he only ever saw him as a dork who could never be the Blaine to his Kurt.

He just had to face the facts, that he was never going to be Chris'. Chris would never introduce him to people as his handsome bushy haired boyfriend. They'd never go on coffee dates or snuggle up by the fire watching Mulan every friday night. They'd never order chinese food because Chris was too lazy to cook (Darren couldn't cook for monkey nuts) and spend hours laughing at how Darren cannot use chopsticks to save his life. Darren would never get to taste Chris' soft, sweet angel lips - off camera anyway. He'd never be able to wake up next to Chris and say 'Morning sunshine' like he'd always dreamed of. This just wasn't going to happen. Darren was living in a fantasy world. Instead, he'd probably end up one of those crazy cat people. Who needs a boyfriend when you have 72 million cats to feed and look after? Maybe he could even name them Chris and Chris Jr. and Chris Sr. and Chris' left arm (i think you get the picture). He could talk to them when he's lonely and Chris is off somewhere being wooed by some 6 foot something guy with lucious brown locks, arm msucles too big for his top to contain and perfect teeth. His neighbours could even call him the Cat Man _na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na CATMANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN._Crazy Cat Man Darren? It's got a nice ring to it.

He spent the rest of the phone call distracted by his thoughts of 'what could have been' and completely disregarding Chris' helpful hints to impress Barack later on that night. The phone call finished and Darren found himself an emotional wreck. Why did Chris always do this to him? It wasn't fair, Chris should know better. _Right, this is it. From now on, we are officially 100% totally and completely over him. Chris Colfer will no longer embody my every wish. He's just a friend. He's just a friend. Just a friend. A friend. _Darren sighed at the thought of it actually being over, he was giving up on Chris, the one thing he never thought possible.


	4. Chapter 4

Darren spent the rest of his day in bed, his mind running over the past few years he's spent hopelessly in love with his co-star. But that was over now, this was his way of saying goodbye. He had more important things to concentrate on right now, like how he was supposed to be at a sound check twenty minutes ago for the 2012 Inauguration Ball. _Shit._

__He lept out of the unbelievably comfortable bed and ran into the bathroom in an attempt to tame his defined curls. He needed to look presentable, even if it was just a rehearsal. What if Barack casually decided to pop in and he was there looking like Bilbo Baggins. That's not exactly the first impression he wanted to make. What if Barack wanted to be friends? They could have a texting relationship and talk everyday about political nonsense that no one cares about just because. _Darren stop it. Now is not the time. _But he wasn't going to leave anything to chance.

After packing a bag of essentials he ran out of the room, guitar in hand and backpack slung over his right shoulder.

It only took ten minutes to get to the venue. The Ball was being held at the Washington Convention Centre, a huge building made of stylish grey marble and glass. It was spectacular. As the driver pulled up, Darren was greeted by an anxious member of staff who opened his door chiming 'Mr Criss, rehearsals have already started. You're on in five. If you will follow me, i'll take you through'. Darren did as the petite young woman instructed, making his way through the extravagant building, ogling it's every feature like a tourist, eventually finding himself on stage with a band and chorus to assist on his songs where needed.

He chose his song months in advance. He could never muster up the courage to ask Chris out so he thought a song, one of the world's greatest love songs, would win him over. It was the only song that felt appropriate. He felt and meant every single word. He could feel Chris' lingering presence whenever he belted it out in rehearsals. It was their song. That is if 'they' ever happened. This was going to be his closure. Once he sang this song he could move on, shut that door behind him and find someone who can love him back, flaws and all.

Sound check flew by. It was as if Darren just blinked and missed it all.

Before he knew it he was backstage in his fancy attire Chris had (sort of) helped him pick out. He settled with a blue fitted jacket, crisp white shirt and skin tight wine jeans. He was shaking. You could practically smell the fear from his trembling body. This was it, his big moment. It was a once in a lifetime sort of deal. In a few minutes he'd be singing a love song in front of the President. The millions of guests and TV viewers didn't phase him. It was just the idea of standing so close to such a perfect man. How could one guy be so lucky? He took a deep breath, inhaling his surroundings and gracefully stepped onto the empty stage with a microphone in his once shaky hand, after Beyonce's rendition of The Star Spangled Banner that left nothing but misty eyes.

There were so many people. _Jesus Christ. I was not expecting this. _There were so many faces in the crowd, so many banners supporting both the President and the various acts he invited, so much love in the air he could practically taste it and it made his heart ache with pride. Darren was so overcome with emotion when his hazel eyes scanned the floor filled with devoted Democrats and Darren Criss fans. It really was going to be a night to remember.

**Oh, my love, my darling **Darren began to sing in a gentle tone.

**I've hungered for your touch**

**A long, lonely time**

His eyes flew open, almost leaping out of his skull, as he remembered that this was Barack Obama's Inauguration, he was singing for him, to support him. And that perfect man was sitting right there, in front of him, staring at him with mesmerised eyes. There was about three feet between the two gentlemen. This could not be real.

**And time goes by so slowly**

**And time can do so much**

**Are you still mine? **

Why was the President of the United States staring at him like that? Maybe he hated this song? Maybe Darren had something in his teeth? _Oh God please don't tell me my fly is down._

**I need your love**

**I need your love**

**God speed your love to me!**

Darren could do nothing but stare at his idol with those puppy dog eyes he'd perfected over the years. He couldn't help it, Barack was his everything, his hero, his president, his teenage crush. _God why is he so attractive? Just look at those eyes. And his teeth, how does one get teeth so white and flawless? And his legs. Wow do they look good in those trousers. Hats off to whoever picked out that suit. Shit. If he doesn't stop looking at me like that.. No. Now is not the time for.. NO DARREN CHANGE THE TOPIC NOW OR YOU'RE GOING TO BE HUMILIATED ON NATIONAL TELEVISION. YOU SAW WHAT HAPPENED TO HENRIK RUMMEL IN THE OLYMICS._

**Lonely rivers flow**

**To the sea, to the sea**

**To the open arms of the sea **

_Okay, don't look at him. Ignore him. Think about apple juice. That always distracts you no matter the situation!_

**Lonely rivers sigh**

**"Wait for me, wait for me"**

**I'll be coming home, wait for me!**

_Ahh but how can i ignore him? LOOK AT HIM. He's just sitting there in his black tuxedo with that 'I'm so proud to be an American right now' smile lighting up his perfect face and those lustful eyes. I swear those eyes are going to kill me. Barack why would you do this to me?_

**Oh, my love, my darling**

**I've hungered, hungered for your touch**

**A long, lonely time**

**And time goes by so slowly **

**And time can do so much**

**Are you still mine?**

**I need your love **

**I need your love**

**God speed your love to me!**


	5. Chapter 5

Darren's performance was met with raging applause, standing ovations and even the occasional rose or item of clothing thrown on stage.

As he moved backstage, the young man was praised by multiple members of staff and the odd celebrity. _God I love Katy Perry so much. Please can we just do a song together, is that too much to ask?_

He was beaming. Words could not describe how happy this had made him. It was a perfect day. Nothing could top it, except for maybe his dinner with the President later that evening. Darren almost forgot about that. He was too distracted by the fact that he, a bushy haired, political nerd from San Francisco, just sang his hear out in front of, pretty much, the entire world. That was pretty damn cool.

Darren watched the rest of the artists perform from backstage, applauding each one and showing his support. Of course he'd rather be at his hotel preparing both physically and mentally for his big _date...i mean dinner. It's just dinner Darren. Dinner with Barack. Barack, the sexy mother hugger who runs this country. That was hot._ His car wasn't scheduled to arrive until after the Ball had finished though. So, he stood patiently beside the pulled back red curtains, stage right, and watched each performance intently. He even saw Michelle and Barack get up on stage at one point and dance together. He didn't know why but this made him sick to his stomach and not in a 'aw they're so cute' way. It was more of a 'get your hands off of my man' sort of feeling. Her every touch made his stomach sink. That should be him up there, dancing with such a fine piece of ass. _Holy shit._ Was the Darren Everette Criss jealous?! This was a new experience for him. He'd never liked someone enough to want to pull out a woman's every hair for simply dancing with them. On stage. In front of millions. And for being married to them as well I suppose. He'd never really had the opportunity to be jealous around Chris. He'd never known Chris to have a real boyfriend; there've been lots of speculation in the media such as the cleverly named 'Disneyland boy' but Darren knew he was nothing. He was no one, just a straight friend from high school who Chris had kept in touch with. Darren never had to deal with anything like this with Chris, especially the whole being married to a woman thing. That was new. He supposed they kind of had the right to be all lovey-dovey, they were married after all.

Darren's usually sun kissed skin flushed a hot shade of red as his anger bubbled over the edge. His knuckles turned white from clenching. Why was he getting so angry? It's not like Barack was his property. Was it because Michelle had what Darren wanted? Or, perhaps, because Michelle was what Barack wanted. Darren would always be second choice, he was just lucky like that. When was his luck going to change? Poor, innocent, amateur at love Darren always falls for the wrong kind of guys. The ones who never love him back or are even incapable of feeling such emotion. They're only ever interested in sex. Not this time. No, Barack was going to be his, one way or another. Darren would finally experience true love, even if it would be the last thing he does.


	6. Chapter 6

Darren's jealousy died down slightly when he noticed Barack leaving the Ball in a separate car to Michelle and the kids. _SCORE._

He left the venue shortly after Barack, making a quick thirty minute pit stop at his hotel before reuniting with his _soul mate...i mean the President of the United States of America._ He decided to change outfits whilst he was there. He couldn't risk Barack being a closeted fashion diva. What if he was and Darren just showed up in his 'hey I just rocked your world at the Inauguration Ball' outfit instead of a more appropriate 'I'm having dinner at the White House, suck it bitches' attire.

The boy spent the majority of his time deciding what to wear. _If only Chris were here, he'd know what to do._ He must have tried on 72 different outfits, assessing each one individually in the floor length mirror his room most graciously offered, before settling on a slim black suit with a D.I.Y. bowtie. Most people think bowties are a Blaine thing, but Darren has always had a thing for them, he just never had the balls to wear one before Glee. He went all out for this dinner, reapplying his hair gel, deodorant, mouthwash, the works! Even from above you could tell he gave his shoes that extra shine before leaving. He was most certainly dressed to impress.

And that he did. He arrived at the White House on time – 8pm sharp – Barack didn't seem like one of those fashionably late kind of guys. The doorman politely escorted him inside, guiding him through the unknown building, passing several 'safety check points' as they called them, on the way. Better safe than sorry has always been their motto I suppose. He was shown into a large room with a central table so long that it almost escaped the well furnished room. It was decorated like you'd expect, all gold and white patterns drifting across the walls with a mural on the ceiling.

Darren's hazel eyes grew wider as he twisted his head trying to take in all the information around him. _God this is beautiful._ His senses were bombarded with magnificent sights from portraits of the President, which were ridiculously life like, to the fresh white carpet underneath his newly polished feet.

The table was layered in expensive cutlery and china, cloches hiding the evening's delicacies and a long thin table cover that matched the goldand white themed room. The table was encased by red velvet with gold studs. All stood empty bar one. The chair at the end was occupied by an all too familiar figure – Barack Obama. He was sitting at the head of the table, Darren should have guessed as much. The 25 year old teenage heartthrob swallowed audibly. His nerves evident in his now heaving chest. His breathing turned almost erratic at the mere sight of his idol five foot away. Just the two of them (and Barack's 72 million body guards, but they didn't count, all Darren could see was the beautiful Barack Obama and no one else).

_This is it. He's right there. Say something or he might think you're a weirdo. Well, he probably already does so no harm done really._

Before Darren gave it another thought, the President folded up his gold napkin, placing it on the table top, stood and walked towards the nervous young man, extending his right arm out. Darren approached, perhaps too quickly, and shook the experienced man's strong, smooth hands. _Wow. Okay. That grip. Imagine that on your.. NOPE. We won't go there okay, not today Darren, not right now. Apple juice Darren, think of the apple juice._

'I'm so glad you could make it Mr Criss' Barack Obama smiled once the hands returned to their respective sides.

'Please, call me Darren. And it's an honour to be here Sir, thank you for inviting me. It is quite spectacular here.' He responded in a humble tone. The boy truly meant every word.

'Please..' The President gestured to an empty chair to the left of the one he himself just vacated. 'Dinner should be ready by now' Barack finished.

Darren did as the man requested, seating him self in the chair Barack had pulled out for him. _Such a gentleman._ He sat, still nervous, placing the swan shaped napkin on to his crossed legs. Barack swiftly returned to his seat, placing his own napkin back on his knees and began questioning Darren on his life, his career, his everything really, as the servantscame to reveal and serve them their specially made meal.


	7. Chapter 7

As the night drew closer and the two finished their meal, they moved into a relaxed living room with a 60 inch television and a more than impressive sofa.

Darren sat on the left corner of the sofa, eyes darting around the room like an excited puppy, eventually settling a nervous gaze on to the President. The older man took a seat next to him after requesting some privacy. Their thighs touching.

Darren's heart was racing at the contact. He could feel his palms sweating. Was it getting hot in there or was it just Barack? He sat uncomfortably, willing the throbbing in his pants to cease. But it didn't.

The boy cleared his throat, hoping Barack didn't notice him staring with lustful eyes. Hoping the man couldn't hear his heart, pounding fast and hard, in his well toned chest. He was sure it was going to leap out at any minute.

'Um.. So, will Michelle be joining us?' Darren fumbled. He couldn't bring himself to identify her as his wife. The mere thought of another person being so close, so intimate with that man burned his blood.

'No..' he started, shifting closer to Darren, their eyes locking 'she and the girls are on vacation in Hawaii.' Their gaze was more tense now, more needing, Darren's eyes pleaded for more. His mind was willing Barack to just close that small gap between the two. For him to just lean in and press those voluptuous lips against his own. He just wanted to, no needed to, taste. To feel. Unfortunately the other man refused to respond to Darren's attempt at telepathy.

Barack's voice had adopted a much raspier tone. Something Darren had never heard before just now. His only response was to swallow - hard. He couldn't help it, that voice rattled through his every limb. And i mean every limb. His eyes could not move from their place, they were glued on Barack. He could feel his cheeks flush red.

The man was so close. Their warm breathe lingering on each other's face, making Darren writhe in the pain he was receiving just south of the equator. Barack placed a gentle hand on Darren's thigh.

Darren needed more. He needed Barack. Nothing else mattered. No one else mattered. All he had to do was move in, just two inches and he and Barack would become one.

And he did just that. He leaned in nervously but with determination evident in his eyes. The boy crushed his lips against Barack's with a vicious need. He could taste the coffee from earlier and it only made him want more.

Darren's experienced tongue traced across the other man's smooth lips asking for entry. To his surprise Barack's lips parted and let his tongue slytherin. The two sat their, eyes squeezed shut with their tongues battling for dominance. Barack's hand left Darren's thigh and traced up along the young body, searching his back and rifled through the boy's tamed locks.

Neither noticed the door open behind them until a young woman, clutching a silver tray of tea and biscuits, gasped as if she had just caught them with their hand in the proverbial cookie jar.


	8. Chapter 8

'Oh my God. I am so sorry, I didn't... I mean, I was... I'm just going to leave you two alone, okay.' A young lady breathed, her eyes bulging from their sockets. She span around and dashed out of the room as though her life depended on it, leaving the two men a little perplexed.

'Um,' the older man started, retracting his now cherry red face, just enough to stare into the other man's hazel green eyes.

'I'm so sorry. I should go. I've... Um, I've got an early flight tomorrow.' Contrary to his words, Darren's body was frozen. He couldn't move, he just wanted to sit there and stare into Barack's gorgeous eyes. His mind couldn't help but wonder what could have happened if that girl didn't come in unannounced and ruin what Darren believed to be the most erotic moment of his life - that was quite the accomplishment considering he's spent hours on end with his tongue down Chris Colfer's throat.

The two men sat, staring into each others eyes for what felt like an eternity. In reality it was only a few minutes, but they were the most peaceful few minutes they'd both had in a long time.

It took all of the 26 year old's strength to break their locked gaze and stand up, before exiting the room.

'Hey, wait,' Barack spoke from behind the sofa, 'why don't you stay for the weekend?'

'Excuse me?' Darren asked, confusion laced in his words.

'Well, there's no sense in you flying all the way out here for just a couple of hours. Stay for a few more days, you deserve a break.'

'Thanks for the offer but, um, I've got loads of Klaine scenes to shoot.'

'Oh please Darren. I watch Glee. Klaine barely have any screen time.'

Darren's condensed frame ached with inner turmoil – that much was obvious from his agonized eyes. The boy's heart and head battled for dominance over his actions. His heart reminisced on the moment he discovered that he was in love – Barack Obama's 1996 election into the Illinois Senate. Meanwhile, his head flooded with doubt: it wasn't right, he's the President of the United States, he's married, he has two children.

But how could he give up so easily when the man looked at him with such lustrous eyes?

With one final glance to the door behind him Darren made his decision, 'Okay.'

'Okay? Great. I'll have the staff make up the guest room for you.' Barack replied with a grin so infectious that Darren couldn't help but mirror.

Darren's eyes slowly opened. His orbs a luminous green from the reflection of the clock on the vintage bedside table. The numbers 11.48 were visible in his pupils. He sat up sharply, rubbing his eyes with haste. A sudden wave of shock swallowed the boy's entire body – he'd missed his flight.

This was short lived once he awoke entirely and last night's events were fully revived. He slowly recalled telling Barack he'd stay for the weekend while Michelle and the children were away. His mind wandered further back as he remembered the taste on the older gentleman's lips, the strong arms that trembled beneath his touch and the expert ferocity to which Barack kissed him back, utilising that artistic tongue of his to drag deep, lustful moans from Darren's vocal chords.

'Oh God, I'm screwed.' Darren murmured as he flopped back into the pillow.

'Hello, Mr Criss? President Obama wanted to inform you that he's having brunch in the Grand Dining Room and wanted to know if you'd join him?'

From an alternative reality a faintly exotic accent pierced his consciousness. Darren grunted in annoyance at the hour he was awake before replying to the mysterious voice behind his door.

'Yeah, I'll be out in a minute.'

After carefully selecting his outfit Darren made his way through the labyrinth that is the White House. He passed painting after painting – none of which captured his attention quite like the masterpiece that sat at the head of the table when he arrived in the Grand Dining Room.

His eyes couldn't help but rake over Barack's entire length when he courteously stood in greeting. The man looked different to anytime he'd ever seen him. He wasn't wearing the typical suit and tie combination. Today was different. He came clad in jeans and a t-shirt hugging his well-toned biceps that Darren had fixated his gaze to. The man looked more casual than Darren. Had he been able to dislocate his eyes from Barack's chiselled physique, he would have attempted a joke about their swap of appearance. But his words were choked in his dry throat. The only sound that escaped was a squeak that immediately resulted in his face being replaced by a fully ripened tomato.

'Darren?'

That familiar voice was enough to pull him from his begrimed thoughts and drag his attention to the man still standing at a vacant chair, waiting to push Darren's chair in for him.

'What? I'm sorry, it's just…you look so…casual.'

The older man looked almost hurt, as if he went to all this trouble of allowing Darren an insight into the real him and it was not appreciated on the shorter boy's behalf.

The two stood in silence for a minute, brewing in the bitter atmosphere.

'I'm sorry…I knew that if I didn't wear the fancy suit and tie you wouldn't recognise me, you'd just think of me as some guy you don't even know...I guess some part of me wanted you to see the…the real me, I guess. It's stupid. It doesn't matter. Please,' Barack gestured at the waiting chair, 'sit.'

Darren's writhed in pain at his every word. He was stupid if he thought Darren wouldn't love him for who he was, or care if he didn't dress up like he so often did. If only he knew how much Darren didn't care about those things, because all that mattered was Barack. What he wore didn't matter, he would love him regardless; even if he was an unemployed, washed up politician. Love is love. Love is unconditional. Barack needed to know that and the only way he would was if Darren showed him.

With that in mind, the young boy rushed up to his lover and -

The musician's mouth moved over Barack's, slowly and expertly, and his fingers caressed the back of his neck, the hollow beneath his jaw, which sent ripples of intense, shuddering pleasure down his spine. Barack's only response was to claw at the young boy's back, reaching for every bit of shirt within his grasps, pulling Darren closer and deeper into the kiss.

He couldn't stop thinking about how gorgeous Barack tasted. The hint of fresh fruit lingering on his palette made Darren moan through their locked lips. He was addicted to that taste; it only made him crave even more.

Before long hands were searching uncharted territory, fisting clothing and hair, exploring every dip and blemish the other had to offer – that could only go on for so long however.

Darren removed his hands from the homely position of Barack's ass and began to lift his t-shirt off, over those perfect pecs and broad shoulders. Once it was neatly thrown to the tiled floor, He started on his own shirt, unbuttoning it with hurried hands.

'Here, let me,' Barack whispered in between kisses in a raspy tone. True to his word the man ripped open Darren's denim shirt and dragged it from his body, revealing a carpet of fur that he wanted nothing more than to run his hands through until they were sanded down to mere nubs.

That rugged voice was stuck on repeat in Darren's mind. The vulgar quality it possessed drew attention to the now-painful throbbing down under. He wrenched with every sound the older man made, the erotic nature of this event forcing his private to fully salute the commanding officer.

Darren pushed back against Barack, driving him to the half-empty table with an overwhelming need for friction. He needed to feel anything and everything that man had to offer. His desire for satisfaction resulted in Barack holding his strong, manly hands out behind him, to stable both of them. This gave him an idea and so Darren moulded his body onto Barack's, grinding against the other man's erection to a haphazard rhythm.

'Oh God!' Barack grunted as Darren's hand happily returned to his ass, groping and kneading with every thrust.

The sounds escaping the elder's mouth encouraged Darren; he removed his lips from Barack's and began kissing down that razor sharp jaw, down his neck and stopping to suckle on his collarbone. He sucked with such ferocity that Barack feared he's have a bruise for weeks. He really was an artist when it came to hickeys – anything where a tongue is involved and he was your go to guy.

His need for more was slowly taking over his 5 foot 8 stature, forcing him to inhale Barack even harder and collapse onto the table beneath them.

The uncomforting noise the old table released did not stop his lust-driven frenzy however. He was consumed by his sensory information: the fruity aroma bouncing off of Barack's body, the expression of pain and pleasure on the other man's face as he gyrated above him, the moans and gasps that haunted the air around him, the feel of Barack's almost sweaty skin beneath his callused fingertips ad the taste of that salty skin on his lips that he tastes with every swipe of his tongue.

'Please,' Barack begged, 'please.'

Those words aroused a wickedly smug grin on Darren's face that reached his lustful eyes.

'What is it you need? Tell me. I'll give you whatever you want, precious.'

Darren hovered over the man, hips thrusting in just the right place at just the right pace to keep him begging for more, waiting for an answer.

'If you don't tell me what you want I can't help you,' he explained with that same smile plastered across his sweaty face.

'I-I need youU-' His words were cut off by the inability to withhold a low moan that had been threatening to release ever since Darren's body followed him onto the table, crashing into him penis first. He could not suppress it any longer when Darren began to nibble on his earlobe – an undiscovered fetish of his.

'Yes? You need me...' He persisted.

'I, ugh, need you to, touch…' Barack was panting now, he didn't know how much longer he could withstand the pain shooting from his jeans. He'd been hard for some time now and he needed a release.

'…me,' he finished.

'Well, why didn't you just say so, precious?' Darren half-mocked before sliding his hand in between their shirtless bodies and palmed Barack's throbbing erection.

'Mo-re,' Barack pleaded as his voice broke with pleasure. He really did need this release and his entire body was grateful for Darren being so accommodating.

'Now, is that better precious?' He asked as he started to palm the man again over his boxers. There was no wait this time; he didn't feel the need to drag this out. He could see pain in his lover's eyes and stroked him with haste, once, twice, before Barack let out a gasp of pleasure. Darren continued to pleasure him until he rode out the last of his orgasm and he relaxed his spent body.

His boxers were now stained with the memory of his Darren-induced orgasm.

It was almost too erotic the thought of what just happened. Barack's face as it happened. It was too much for the aroused 26 year old and so he pushed one hand down between the two and into his boxers. He stoked his erect penis with haste – he'd waited too long for this and all he cared about was relieving the tension in his lower abdomen.

With a few quick twists of his wrist and groans against closed lips the boy came, spilling himself over his weak hand and onto his baby blue boxers.

'Darren?' Barack asked, still coming down from an all-time high.

'Mmm?' Was the only reply the boy could manage.

'That was the hottest thing I've ever witnessed. Promise me you'll do it again?'

Barack felt him smile against his chest as he breathed, 'whatever you want precious.'


End file.
